


Wholock - Part 1

by johnlockedfangirl



Series: Wholock [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 500 words or less, Alternate Universe - Doctor Who Fusion, Alternate Universe - Sherlock (TV) Fusion, BAMF John Watson, Bite-size Chapters, Crossover, Doctor x Companion, Hopefully not OOC, I wrote this ages ago, M/M, Major character death - well perhaps later in the series, Many small chapters, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Short Chapters, Wholock, because I like suspense, can you tell I'm self conscious about the length, or around that - who's really counting?, rated teen for mild peril, short chapters because short and sweet, such a dork, uber short chapters, wholock crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7649917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnlockedfangirl/pseuds/johnlockedfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor's companion has been taken by Weeping Angels, and he approaches the universe's only Consulting Detective for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is a Wholock fanfiction. Hope you enjoy! Feedback much appreciated :) 
> 
> Disclaimer: These characters (however much I love them) belong to the BBC.
> 
> I hope to update every few days - or sooner.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John meet the Doctor.

It was a typical day in Baker Street. Sherlock had retreated to his innermost thoughts to reflect upon things that the common populace would hardly understand. The best part of this, in John’s opinion, was that he was being quiet. Hopefully the wall would not suffer from the deep bouts of boredom the detective was prone to.  
  
But then there came a sound much more interesting than the average gunshot.

_… VWORP … VWORP … VWORP …_

"John, can you turn that down?" Sherlock called from the window of his Mind Palace.  
The high-functioning sociopath found it quite disturbing. Normally he could tune out the noise of the telly- most of it was rubbish anyway, not worth watching- but this noise was different. What an odd sound. Sherlock couldn't quite put a finger on it, but it almost sounded like an automobile, driving with its brakes on.  
  
"Turn what down? The telly's not even on, Sherlock." John replied from the kitchen, where he was preparing his mid-morning cup of tea. He turned around, saucer in hand, to join his flatmate in the living room. Sherlock was suddenly startled out of his thoughts by a loud _crash!_ \- John had dropped his teacup.  
  
His eyes snapped open, but instead of seeing his friend, standing in a mess of tea-splattered china shards, his view was blocked- by something blue.  
  
He blinked, and for the first time in a long time found himself in a complete state of confusion.  
  
There was a police box sitting in the middle of their flat.  
  
He stood up and quickly walked around it, his curiosity piqued.  
  
He ran his fingers across the painted wood, his mind buzzing with questions. He completed his rounds and came to stand by John, who was staring at the box with his mouth open in astonishment. Sherlock began rattling off his deductions, but John was only half listening as he started babbling about call boxes and the impossibility of the nineteen-sixties.  
  
John stretched out a hand without thinking, to pull on the door handle, when the door opened inward, revealing a man. He was sharply dressed, with suspenders peeking out from beneath his elbow-patched coat and a dapper red bow-tie encircling his neck.  
  
The man smiled warmly, and said, "Hello. I'm The Doctor."


	2. Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deductions and a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 coming soon!

Sherlock smirked as he instantly deduced The Doctor. The mysterious box that had suddenly appeared in their flat, the way he introduced himself, and the twinkle in his deep eyes revealed everything to the consulting detective.  
  
"You're a Time Lord." He said in his deep, velvet-like voice.  
  
The Doctor looked genuinely surprised. "How did you know?" He asked.  
  
Sherlock smiled one of his rare grins, a light springing into his eyes as always when he was explaining his deductions. "It's obvious. Your box- there's no way on Earth anyone could get it in here, so of course you're some sort of extraterrestrial being. You're clearly not from this planet, as is evident from your atrocious fashion sense."  
  
The Doctor frowned and adjusted his bow tie. "Bow ties are cool." He insisted. He spun on his heels and turned to face the box. "This-" He gestured at the box, waving a hand towards it. "- is my spaceship and time machine. It's called the TARDIS, which stands for Time And-"  
  
Sherlock spoke up quickly and finished his sentence. "Time And Relative Dimension In Space."  
  
The Doctor glanced at him, surprised, and Sherlock added, "Obviously."  
  
The Doctor grinned. "I knew you were good, I’ve even impersonated you before, but even the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle didn't prepare me for the real you."  
  
Sherlock raised one eyebrow at the reference. The Doctor flashed him a smirk, then turned and sauntered into the TARDIS.  
John spoke up through his shock. “Sherlock - how…?”  
  
“Do shut your mouth, John. It’s entirely unbecoming of you. Mycroft occupies an - ahem - _minor_ position in Torchwood. He’s passed on this man’s credentials to me.”  
  
Sherlock followed him into the TARDIS, and John ran after Sherlock almost instinctively, still perplexed by this madman and his box. The sheer strangeness of the TARDIS's interior caught even Sherlock off guard, and he and his blogger stood speechless for several moments. The Doctor was waiting for them, casually leaning against some strange piece of technology, which Sherlock assumed was the console.  
  
John finally spoke, finding the voice which he had lost in his astonishment. "It's... It's bigger on the inside..." He stuttered.  
  
The Doctor chuckled. "I love it when they say that!" He exclaimed, half to himself. He then pranced around the console, flicking switches, twiddling knobs, and pressing buttons in a frenzy of complicated moves. The TARDIS jerked, and John and Sherlock were thrown to the floor. "Sorry about that. Should've warned you." The Doctor called, typing in a few more commands.  
  
Sherlock stood up with help from John. "What exactly are you doing?" He asked. The Doctor's eyes widened, as if he'd just remembered something.  
  
"Ah, yes. I need your help, Sherlock. I'll need your help too, John, because I have a problem. A very serious problem. The Weeping Angels have returned."


	3. Companion

"The Angel statues, they're not just statues. They're creatures from another world, dangerous... and lonely. The Lonely Assassins, some call them. They're Quantum-Locked, which means they don't exist when they're being observed. But then you turn your back, and that's when they strike." The Doctor explained as he pulled more levers on the console, finally landing the TARDIS. He turned to the two men. “Any questions?”

Sherlock said,“If you travel alone, then why is there a woman's sweater, obviously recently worn, draped over that pillar?"

The Doctor grinned. "You really don't miss a thing, do you? That's the real reason I need you. That is my companion's sweater. She was taken by the Weeping Angels. Usually that wouldn't be a problem for me, I'd just zip back in time and pick her back up, but there's more of them out there, and I can't risk getting us both stranded again. That's why I came to request your help, Sherlock. There's only one of me, and I need more people, more eyes on my side." He bounded over to the door and turned. "Ready?" 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course." The Doctor snapped his fingers, the doors opened, and bright daylight flooded into the TARDIS. 

"Wait," John said, and The Doctor paused, looking at him expectantly. "Your companion... What was her name?" John asked. 

The Doctor turned to look at him. "Her name was Molly. Molly Hooper."

After their jaws dropped, he chuckled. "Going by your expressions I assume you know her. My, my it is a small universe after all, isn't it?" He said, then led the way out of the TARDIS. After they stepped out after him, he locked the door, chattering away as he turned the key. "Now, the most important thing to remember is-" 

"Don't blink." Sherlock muttered. 

The Doctor continued on, hardly missing a beat. "-precisely. Don't even blink." 

John looked around. They stood on a hill in what appeared to be the crumbling ruins of some ancient civilisation. If John hadn’t known any better, they might have been on Earth. Given that the sky was a violent shade of purple and the grass beneath their feet was an odd navy colour, he knew they were far from it. “Doctor, where exactly are we?”

The Doctor shut the doors of the TARDIS and spun around. “Welcome to the planet of the Annunaki. Excellent stone-workers, let me tell you. I brought Molly here to show her. The Annunaki themselves have been gone for ages - their civilisation ended centuries ago. The planet ended up being abandoned.” He took long strides down the hill, leading the two men into the ruins before them. 

“Abandoned, except for the weeping angels.” Sherlock broke in.

“Of course.” The Doctor said. “I figure, they must have been on a ship and crash landed here - ah, here we are.” They had passed under a stone archway and into what must have been an intricate maze. The carcass of a ship lay long abandoned just beyond it. “This is where we were before. We were only a little ways into the maze. And - ”

The Doctor spun on his heel again, stopping short all of a sudden. A trio of statues stood before them.

"Don't blink." The Doctor reminded them. 

Sherlock smirked. "Blink? I'm not going to blink. Blinking is boring." 

Then John spoke up, in a tone sprinkled with nerves. "So... Molly is somewhere in the middle of this maze?" 

The Doctor replied, "No. She's long gone by now. But this is where the Angel snatched her..." He fumbled in his pocket as he spoke and pulled out a long metal cylinder. He pressed a button on the side, and the tip of it glowed electric green, emitting a strange, high-pitched buzz. He waved it slowly in front of him, and its buzzing rhythm pulsed as it swept across the statues. He held it up for a brief instant, noting its readings, and continued speaking. "I've just got to find the right one..." 

Poor John was looking more confused by the second. "The right what? And what exactly is that thing?" 

The Doctor held the tool up. "There were only four Angels on that ship. I need to find out which one took her, so we can pick her up. I'm going to trace it, using this. This is my-" 

Again, Sherlock jumped right into the conversation, never taking his eyes off the Angels. "It's your sonic screwdriver, obviously. And you needn't bother using it. I already know which one took Molly." 

The Doctor smiled. "Oh, really? And how'd you deduce that? The Angels look so similar that there's no way to figure that out, not without a sonic item of some sort. How did you trace the signal?" 

Sherlock sighed. "Really, Doctor, it wasn't hard at all. You need to brush up on your powers of observation, if you overlooked _that._ " He emphasised the last word, pointing a pale, slim finger towards the statues. 

There, hanging on the stone arm of an Angel, was a necklace. Molly's necklace. 


	4. Angels

The Doctor cautiously went up to the statues and walked around them. John and Sherlock kept their eyes on the Angels, and watched as The Doctor picked up the piece of jewellery and soniced it, running his screwdriver along its length. Sherlock couldn’t help but want a closer look. He approached the line of statues, intense concentration on his face.

John reasoned two sets of eyes were enough to keep three angels in check. He wanted a closer look at the maze itself. When else would he have the chance to explore alien ruins?

The doctor headed down a branch just to their right, disappearing around a corner. The Doctor was right - though these were ruins, the architecture was fascinating. John spent a few minutes exploring the fading details on the walls before deciding to turn back. He turned to round the corner again and - 

An angel blocked his way. He stiffened up in shock but did not cry out, eyes wide. Don’t blink. Right. After a moment his eyes began to water. This was bloody difficult. But he walked around the angel all the same. This was the fourth angel that The Doctor had mentioned. 

Sherlock heard John’s footsteps approaching. They were slower than his usual pace. Wrong. Backwards. That was, of course, because he was backing up, clearly keeping his eyes on the angel. All four were accounted for, then.

The Doctor pocketed the sonic and turned back toward the maze’s entrance, his gait vaguely reminiscent of a drunk giraffe. "It was that Angel, all right. I've got a signal, but it won't last long. Come on, you two" He marched back up the hill to the TARDIS and began unlocking it. 

Sherlock followed him, followed in turn by John. They backed slowly to the box. He turned to John to make a comment, and his spine stiffened in shock. 

Where John had been just moments before was an Angel. 

Sherlock realised The Doctor had been wrong. There hadn’t been four angels. There had been _five._

Its face was twisted in a cold grimace no stonemason would ever desire to carve, and its rock hard arms and wings were contorted gruesomely as it reached to clutch him in its unholy embrace.

Sherlock involuntarily cried out in alarm. It couldn't be, John had been right there, right at his side. But there was no mistaking it.

John was gone. 

Dangling from one curved claw of the Angel was a thin metal chain, and the final rays of the sun glinted off the necklace's only adornment- John's dog tags, from his service in Afghanistan. 

In disbelief, Sherlock tore the chain from the Angel's grip. "No... No, no, no!" He exclaimed. 

The Doctor finally heard his cries, and stuck his head out the door. 

"Oh... oh, no..." Both his hearts sank into the pit of his stomach. 

A long, blue scarf fluttered to the ground in the Angel's wake. 


	5. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit short!

Sherlock moaned, covering his face with his arms. His head was pounding, and he was clutching John's dog tags so hard that the embossed letters had made an impression in his white skin. Time travel without a capsule. A terrible experience.

As he waited for _Captain John Hamish Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers_ to fade from his palm, he surveyed his surroundings with a bleary-eyed gaze. He was in an alleyway of some sort. 

He picked himself out of the trash that lined the edges of the gutter, and quietly moved towards the street. It was dark, and the shadows were menacing. Sherlock took stock of the cobblestone streets and the sheer amount of filth beneath his shoes; he must have landed somewhere in the 19th century. Hopefully this was the year John had landed in. Sherlock didn’t care how far away John was. He could have been clear across the continent for all he knew, but if their times did not coincide that was a different matter entirely.

First things first. Confirm the year by asking the locals, perhaps find a place to stay while he sought out John. Sherlock began walking. The alleys in which he found himself were in a bad state, but he got the feeling of vague familiarity. He was in London, he’d bet his life on it. However, he’d only taken a few turns when he heard sudden footsteps behind him, and quickly flattened himself against the filthy brick wall, watching from the shadows. 

Two figures emerged from the alley's end, dashing at top speed along the cobblestones. Their faces were pale and streaked with dirt, but Sherlock recognised them nevertheless. John and Molly. They were running, it seemed, for their very lives. 

Relieved, Sherlock stepped out into the middle of their path, and they skittered to a halt, panting heavily, clearly having just run a great distance. Molly looked relieved to see him, and even flashed him a small smile through her fright, but John's eyes, to Sherlock’s surprise, hardened when he saw his flatmate. 

He reached for his gun, pulling it out of his waistband and aimed it without qualms straight at Sherlock's head. An unsettling splash of fear entered Sherlock’s veins for the first time in years as he glimpsed the cold expression in his friend's eyes. 

"John…? What are you doing?" He asked in a choked whisper. 

John did not answer. With his jaw firmly set, and with a steely hint of his military self glinting in his eye, he pulled the trigger. 


	6. Victorian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's taken a while! It's also a bit short. School started and I'm already busy. In any case, thanks for waiting, and I hope you enjoy! Next chapter will be up faster, I promise. :)

Sherlock involuntarily flinched as the bullet whistled past his ear, missing him by mere inches. He heard a grunt behind him, and turned around. His would-be attacker was collapsed in the street. The light of the dim streetlamp glinted off the razor sharp edge of the knife he had been about to plunge into Sherlock's back.

John grabbed him by his coat sleeve and dragged both him and Molly into a darker but more secluded section of the alley. 

"Thanks, John." 

John smiled slightly. "Don't mention it." He whipped his head around suddenly as heavy footsteps pounded toward them. "Come. Quickly." John whispered, and sprinted off down the alleyway, with Sherlock and Molly close behind. 

So many questions rolled around in Sherlock's great brain, all threatening to come pouring out in one great rush, and they tripped up his sharp tongue, so the best he could manage was a breathless "What- Who was- But the Angel-" 

John began explaining as they ran, "The Angel, it got us, just as it did Molly. It sent us back to the past- it's probably sometime in the late 1800's, 1895 I'd imagine... I landed in this alley, right into the middle of a gang meeting, some secret criminal society I think. Obviously I had no explanation as to why I mysteriously appeared in front of them, so I ran off and bumped into Molly. But now, they're chasing us. I think they think we're spies, and-" 

Sherlock cut him off by tugging on his sleeve. "We've got a bigger problem on our hands." He gestured toward the end of the alley. In the filth of Victorian London stood a Weeping Angel, deceptively innocent with its hands over its eyes. John stared at it. "Don't even blink. There's just one, we'll be safe so long as we keep looking at it." 

Molly glanced back. "Uh... There's two more behind me..." She whispered. Sherlock turned on his heels, and sure enough, there they were. One was reaching toward them, and the other had its arm outstretched, but not in their direction. 

Sherlock said, "Why's it pointing at the-" The streetlight flickered, and in the few seconds of darkness that shrouded their eyes, the Angels moved, coming closer with every moment of complete shadow. Molly took a step back in fear as John and Sherlock each took one of her arms. They wouldn't risk getting separated. 

_Oh, not again…_ John thought as the light flickered out of existence, and just as last time, he felt the rush of soundless wind, tumbling head over heels into the dark abyss of time as the Angel took him, once again, into the past…


	7. Escape

John fell to his knees and managed to prevent himself from face-planting by throwing out his arms at the last second. He hit the ground hard, wincing at the impact, and lay there for several moments as he waited for the nauseating effects of time-sickness to pass. He cracked open his eyes, blinking back the headache that threatened to overwhelm him, and wondered where and- more importantly, when- he was. The ground told him nothing- he had landed on a sort of metal grate, but he could be anywhere- wait. Hold on. He recognised the ground, he'd been tossed onto it before, quite roughly and very recently, actually, though it seemed- and literally had been- several lifetimes ago. 

He sat up and looked into The Doctor's grinning face, taking the proffered hand and getting to his feet, looking around once more at the interior of the TARDIS. He helped Molly stand as Sherlock sat up and brushed off his trench coat, turning up the collar and wishing he had his scarf back. The Gallifreyan leaned back against the console, shaking his head at them, as if they were children who needed chastising. "Didn't I tell you not to wander off? Don't wander off, and don't blink. Clearly my instructions go unheeded." 

Molly looked around, confused. "But why-" 

The Doctor interrupted her. "Why didn't the Angels take you? I intercepted them, of course. I picked you up before they could touch you, and-" The TARDIS shook violently, and they were all thrown down again, except The Doctor, who had caught hold of the hand rail. "Whoa!" He exclaimed. He deftly tapped a button, and his screen lit up, showing the exterior of the box. The Angels were gathered around the sides, and in the light of the dying street lamp, they could see that they were being moved, jerked along by the statues.

The Doctor swayed to and fro as he struggled to keep his balance, sliding willy-nilly around the console, pulling levers as he went. 

Sherlock managed to get to his feet, only to be tossed roughly against the doors. "What's happening?" He inquired.

The Doctor called back to him, "The Angels have the phonebox. Again.This time with me in it. Oh, that reminds me, I'll have to pay a visit to Sally Sparrow-" The TARDIS jerked again, and whatever he was saying was lost as he hit the floor. He instantly jumped up again, saying, "Right. We're not out of the woods yet. Hold on, everyone!" 

"What do you think we're doing?!" Molly retorted from her white-knuckled grip on the rail. The Doctor grinned, pulling another lever, but his smile faded and he ducked as sparks flew from the control panel. 

"No, no, don't do this to me, not now!" He yelled, frantically running around the console again. 

The TARDIS shuddered, and then like music to their ears came the familiar screeching and whirring. The Doctor laughed aloud. "Oh, yes!" He exclaimed triumphantly, sounding for a moment like his tenth incarnation. "What did I tell you! Tough, Dependable, Sexy TARDIS! Come on, old girl! Geronimo!" 


	8. Geronimo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I am so sorry for not updating. Life happens. Oh, well. I hope you've enjoyed it!
> 
> This is not the end, however. I am planning to write a larger "Part 2" of my Wholock collection. If you liked this, keep your eyes out!

The TARDIS escaped the grip of the Angels, and landed once more in 221B after dropping Molly off in her own flat. The Doctor leaned on the doorframe, saying his farewells to Sherlock and John.

"Well, gentlemen, I suppose this is goodbye." The Doctor said sombrely, shaking each of their hands. 

He then turned to the detective, handing him back his beloved scarf as he said, "Goodbye, Sherlock." 

"Goodbye, Doctor." The high-functioning sociopath replied, then he sauntered over to the door of the flat. "Goodbye, Mrs. Hudson!" He called down the stairs. 

John looked up. "Wait a minute..." He said. Sherlock smirked at his blogger as he tied his scarf around his neck. "You really didn't think that was the end of it, did you?" 

He sprang to the door of the TARDIS, and turned back. "Come along, John." He said, tossing something silver through the air. 

The ex-army doctor caught his dog-tags, grinning as he pulled the thin chain back over his head. The tags clinked together as he took one last glance around their flat before following Sherlock and closing the door behind him. 

The Doctor was waiting for them with a smile upon his face. The bow-tie clad alien turned on his heel and threw out his arms, offering them the galaxies. 

"All of Time and Space, everything that ever was and anything that will ever be…” 

He turned to look over his shoulder, a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye. 

“Where do you want to start?" 


End file.
